


What We do In The Shadows

by NiwaEngland



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst and Feels, Aziraphale is Not, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley is dead, Dark Comedy, Forced Cohabitation, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nuisance Neighbours, Supernatural Elements, Vampire Hunter Aziraphale, Vampires, and they were ROOMMATES
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:02:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23894278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiwaEngland/pseuds/NiwaEngland
Summary: Anthony J. Crowley was a modern vampire. Despite dying backwards in the fourteenth century. He had a nice flat, a flash car and the finest plants in all of London.He wasn't lonely. No matter what his undead neighbours and a know it all Occultist said. The universe provides, or so Anathema believed.Cue the entrance of Aziraphale, a rather unconventional vampire hunter.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 72
Kudos: 113





	1. Chapter 1

"I am not lonely," Crowley stated. Sitting across from two other vampires in a local bar. They lived at the house at the end of the street. It wasn't far enough. 

"You bloody well are," Laszlo corrected. Brisk and unbothered. "You talk to your flowers."

"They're not flowers, they're _luxury_ house plants. We don't all want a vulva garden."

Before Laszlo could counter Nandor raised his hands and made one of his off-putting, friendly expressions. "What Laszlo is try-ing to say is that maybe, just perhaps you would like something more."

Crowley was seriously considering finding somewhere else to drink. But not every bar was supernaturally inclined. 

"You could get a familiar!" Nandor grinned, fangs poking out. His ridiculous robe glinting in the low lights. "Guillermo does all the things I don't want to do."

Glancing towards the plump and awkward looking human standing off to the side of the bar Crowley scowled. The mere idea of leading a disillusioned human on with the promise of immortality was not his thing. It never had been.

"Or," Laszlo cut in. Leaning conspicuously close. "A mate." He nodded firmly. "Get married. My lonely days were over when my good lady wife Nadja came along."

Crowley swallowed some blood from his glass. Swirling it. "Didn't she kill you?"

"Well, yes." The dark-haired vampire smiled. Lewd. "It was very romantic, scratching at my window. The seduction, hypnotism... turning into a big hairy bat and biting." His eyes came into focus again.  
It was a very pleasant memory. "I was the best looking man in my village."

Coming from one shit hole to another Crowley tried not to judge but he couldn't imagine how small or disease-ridden the village had to have been for Laszlo to be Mr October.

"Where is Nadja?" Nandor asked, twisting around to search. 

Crowley suppressed all expression. He had seen her last week on horseback in the West End. Pedestrians thought it was some kind of press for a show. Nadja had her arms wrapped around a human man, she was cheering and he was screaming the name Gregor. She was probably with him again, not that Crowley was going to say anything. It wasn't his business and stirring the pot was not necessary. 

Nandor waved, "Guillermo! Come here."

The little man shuffled over and smiled nervously. "Yes, Master?"

"You have a human brain. We have mighty vampire's brains, maybe we are too smart yes? What do you think? What does Mr Crowley need? He doesn't want a wife and he doesn't want a familiar."

Crowley almost groaned, he very nearly felt bad for the human. Putting up with Nandor's nonsense was something only a saint should do. 

"Maybe..." Guillermo fidgeted. "Maybe consider getting a roommate?" He became more nervous as Nandor seemed to struggle with the concept. "That way you can have someone around but not be together."

As a rule, Crowley had never asked why Nandor, Nadja and Laszlo lived together. All they did was argue and only Nadja and Laszlo were a couple. Safety in numbers perhaps, or maybe there was something else to it.

"I don't want to live with you," Crowley smirked. 

"Wasn't bloody inviting you to," Laszlo huffed. "We're not moving the Stairmaster."

...

The next evening Crowley walked the winding streets. It was well beyond midnight but a city never sleeps. People still meandered past, going about some business or another. The idea of a roommate wasn't exactly a bad one, someone to occupy the empty space his big apartment. Problem was that most people were deeply annoying. 

Vampires were insufferable and humans were oblivious. 

"Who is going to want to flatshare with me?"

Crowley asked aloud in Anathema's shop. Leaning on the carefully crafted counter. Avoiding all the hanging bits and bobs that just screamed of magic. Knowing the witch some of it would be cursed. Sunlight in a bottle or wolfsbane bites.

"You could post on social media."

"Good idea, attract every nutter in London."

Anathema stopped her sorting to look at Crowley. Utterly unafraid of him, she smiled. "Keep your eyes and your mind open, the universe will provide the rest."

Crowley scoffed, leaning lazily in a way that showed off his hip bones. "Should I cross your palm with silver for that bullshit or was it free?"

Clipping the vampire with her handy broom Anathema urged him towards the door. "I'm closing up."

"And flying home?"

She whacked him again. They were almost at the door. Crowley stopped short of it, causing Anathema to bump into his back. Turning Crowley loomed, showing a hint of teeth. "You could always just revoke your invitation."

"I'd never do that," Anathema stayed steady. Confident. She knew Crowley, as well as anyone could hope to know him. He could kill her but he wouldn't. Beneath that cool, dark and tight clothed exterior was an old friend. 

"Would you like me to hit you with the broom again?" 

"No." Crowley stepped out beyond the boundary. "But I'll wait and walk you home. Newt's working tonight right?"

Appreciation swelled in her chest, even powerful witches had to be careful walking home late at night.  
"You see," she grinned. "What did I tell you? The universe provides."

...

Nearly a week had passed when Crowley was heading back from a feed. He hadn't given the roommate thing another thought. He was fine, he was happy.   
  
Hearing a fluttering of wings Crowley stared upwards, catching the fluttering form of a bat. A familiar bat which plummeted towards him. Turning effortlessly into Nadja. 

"Crowley! So good to see you." 

Now that was suspicious. 

"Nadja."

She gave a slight elaborated bow. Wearing the same old fashioned clothing as her husband. But much better looking. Nadja had no trouble getting what she wanted. 

"I'm not going to mention the West End thing. If that's what you're worried about."

"I don't worry," Nadja stated. Brushing it off despite looking like she'd been rolling in the hay. Followed by a cry and a conflict of interest.   
  
"I love Laszlo."

"I know."

"It's very complicated."

Crowley stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I know."

"He said that you were lonely."

That caught Crowley off guard, to make it worse Nadja pressed close and embraced him. It was unsure, awkward for both of them. They broke apart as if it hadn't happened.

"He's only gone and gotten himself caught by animal control."

_"He's what?"_

"I left him when he was trying to eat the new neighbour Phil. He was being very boring. Dark power this and dark power that. When was the last time that I felt his dark power?"

Crowley chose to ignore that and all the mental images that threatened to follow.

"Guillermo called. The bitch girlfriend knocked him unconscious in bat form and animal control took him away. Nandor tried to rescue him but as a bloody dog and is now also stuck." She shrugged, with a 'what can you do' guile.

Trying so hard not to laugh Crowley wrestled with an amused smile. "Off to the rescue?"

"Sometimes he needs me in non-erotic ways. It's very boring but it is what it is." She lingered, "do you want to come along? We could laugh at them both in their cages?"

Tempted Crowley took a step forward and then one back. It was their affair and he wasn't quite one of them. Not in that way. 

"Maybe next time."

Nadja flashed a white smile. "You are lonely though, like a sad lonely dog." She burst into bat form and soared. 

Crowley laughed, watching her fly off. Sorely tempted to follow. Just to see the scene at the animal sanctuary unfold. 

Maybe it would be nice to have someone to get into that kind of trouble with. Rolling his eyes at himself Crowley started on his way home again.

He'd been on his own his whole life. 

Why would tomorrow be any different? 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if this fusion will ever be in popular demand but it's so fun to write ✞♥️✞

It was pitch black when Crowley awoke. Still groggy he fumbled for his phone the screen momentarily blinding him with brightness.

6:45 PM. The sun wasn't due to set until 8:20 PM.

So why-

A muffled noise broke the silence.

Crowley frowned, he listened intently. Safe inside his standing coffin he could hear someone moving around _inside_ his home. No longer feeling that safe and snug feeling Crowley carefully pushed at the lid. Opening it just a crack to see spots of sunlight flooding his room. He suppressed a violent hiss.

Someone moved through the sunlight. A cloud of blond curls reflected the unwelcomed light, creating a halo of all things. Through various movements, Crowley caught sight of a round focused face, pleasant and unassuming. Then the stranger pulled out a few objects from his bag. A vial of holy water and a rather large crucifix. 

Well fuck-a-doodle-doo.

The sharpness of the sun seeped steadily into Crowley's unprotected retinas, he didn't sleep with his sunglasses on. His dowdy visitor resumed rummaging. For the love of... someone. Was that vampire hunter wearing a fucking bow tie? 

Teeth bared Crowley maintained silence as he pushed the lid further. The _spots_ of sun (thank you trees) filtered in from one window. He could avoid the beams, he could surprise his guest.

Slinking out like a serpent Crowley crept between the sunbeams. Thinking to anyone else eyes he'd look like the worlds best super spy. His fingers reached out, twitching. Eager catch what would be a very satisfying snack. 

The someone sighed a soft sound. Stuttering off mid breath. Suddenly going completely rigid. Hands still halfway in a bag. Crowley heard that hateful heartbeat rise. The game was on. 

Spinning around the human had a stake in his right hand and a large glinting cross in the other. Crowley pounced, ignoring his instincts to shield himself. He managed to knock the stake off target but got a crucifix to his face for his efforts. "Fuck!"

Together they landed on the floor. Crowley hissed as his skin burned, thrusting his hips down he pinned the vampire hunter beneath him and tore the cross away. He flung it hard enough to partly embed it in the far wall. 

Without his sunglasses, Crowley struggled to adjust to the light. His skin healed as fast as he fake breathed. 

Okay, so maybe the man beneath him was adorable. Which was fifty shades of stupid and wrong. The worlds softest looking vampire hunter started right back. Cobalt blue eyes wide and wondering. Lips pressed tightly together, unamused. 

Since when were vampire hunters easy on the eyes? Outside of romantic fiction or tv spin-offs. What was beneath Crowley was an academic, not a crazy person about to shout out an exorcism. 

Thanks to the sunlight that fucking halo was still shinning. If angels existed then they wanted him dead. 

Something sharp pressed against his chest. Hovering over his heart. Crowley smirked, he couldn't help himself. "Is that a stake or are you just pleased to see me?"

A blush cloured that round face. Followed by a very disapproving frown. "I consider it a public service."

"He speaks," Crowley mused. Wriggling his hips and winking. "You are so lucky that I happen to like blue eyes." 

Bafflement and discomfort filtered into a neutral expression. "Get off of me."

"I could do that but I could actually get you off angel, how about it?"

Well, that just slipped out. Not the offer of sex. Na that was right. But angel had a nice ring to it. Using his most seductive smile Crowley was grateful that he was devoid of shades. Without a barrier, his golden gaze was powerfully hypnotic. He refused to say the words 'submit' or 'dark power' but the effect was the same.

" _Relax_ ," he intoned gently. "We got off to a bad start. Why don't you lower your weapon? You don't need it anymore."

The pressure to his chest disappeared. Crowley grinned. Power was a heady feeling. Dangerous because it could lead to bad, rather questionable decisions. 

He could feel the tension drain from the air itself. "See how easy it is? Now hand me the stake please."

As the stake pressed freely into his palm Crowley was disappointed. All the excitement was over. He knelt back, scrubbing a hand through his flaming red hair. Now the only steps to take would be whims. Should he stop to put paper down? Where was a good place to dispose of the body? It wasn't his whim, or desire however as a knee shot up and caught Crowley squarely in the crown jewels. 

"It's Aziraphale." The hunter offered with absolute clarity. "Not angel."

Crowley couldn't manage a sound as Aziraphale the bastard that was suddenly worth knowing shoved him off. In the fetal position, Crowley tried to curse past the pain. 

"Rather foolish of you that," Aziraphale stood and stumbled to his kit bag. "A bit underhanded I'll admit but you gave me no choice in the matter. This whole situation could have been avoided if you were a deep sleeper."

Crowley made an exasperated sound from his mighty position on the floor. 

Coming to stand on the higher ground Aziraphale clutched his bag close. "Did you really think that I would be that susceptible to hypnotism?"

Mildly embarrassed Crowley refused to answer. 

Producing a handy dandy stake gun Aziraphale took appropriate aim. "Given my profession, one should be more sceptical."

Aziraphale pressed the trigger and fired.

...

Aziraphale couldn't quite believe the series of unfortunate events that had followed. It seemed such a short time ago. The gun had jammed, then it _blew up_ in his face. 

Oh, dear.

Then things got considerably worse.

Because here he was stuck halfway through a vampires bathroom window. Not the way he came in of course. Unable to pull himself forward, back or anywhere else. Legs kicking freely in the empty air. Needless to say, the day had taken a decidedly bad turn. 

Of course, the vampire was now laughing at him. Behind him. Aziraphale lamented, feeling cold arms of death wrapping themselves around his waist. Pulling him back into the flat and away from the safety of the sun. Perhaps Gabriel had been right after all. He should have worked harder to lose the gut. Now it was going to cost him his life. 

...

Pulling what was his name? Azira- fucking-fell? Back into his arms, Crowley wasted no time in sinking his teeth in. Using his left arm not currently holding the hunter to grab a fistful of ridiculously soft scented hair and yank for better throat access. The blood burst like a damn, gushing gloriously down his throat.

Vaguely Crowley could feel the fight. Through the haze of ecstasy and heat, that heartbeat was furious. Righteous. Then the memories came and... and Aziraphale was also alone. 

Well, that was sort of sad. And satisfying, yeah. 

The heartbeat started to slow, the hands that had been prying perilously at his own slipped away and swung heavily.

In the matter of a minute, death would be at the door. Knocking even though he had a key to the kingdom. 

It was in these few, surreal seconds, before the point of no return that Crowley had his epiphany. This was the universe was sending him a sign. 

Well, maybe. That or it was trying to kill him with the human manifestation of a fluffy cloud.  
  
But it was still a sign. Right?

...

So close to passing out Aziraphale was somewhat annoyed by being bothered. The vampire's fangs left his neck, put pressure to the wound and the damn creature was dragging him again.

How utterly rude and impatient.

"I'm not dead yet," Aziraphale muttered. Unable to move his limbs as he was pushed, quiet forcefully up against a wall. 

"I know that, don't you think I know that?" Crowley held Aziraphale upright with one hand. The other he used to run raggedly through his own hair. A little bit of stress could be sexy right?

"Look the thing is I'm not actually a bad guy. I'm- don't look at me like that. As vampires and other supernatural things go I'm alright."

Struggling to form words Aziraphale forced himself to focus. "You kill people."

"Bad people, yeah. There are lots of them out there."

There was a long stretch of awkward silence. Made all the more tense by the tangy taste of blood in the air. "I have this idea- er, a proposition for you."

Aziraphale's blue eyes focused, "I will not become what you are."

"Oh," Crowley blinked. "No, no - just no. I don't do that, too many strings attached and -"

"I will not be kept as your familiar either," Aziraphale cut in. Feeling light-headed, if the demon let him go he might just float away. 

"Not interested in that either. No servant stuff. That's old school thinking. A fourteenth-century attitude angel."

"Then what!?!" Aziraphale snapped, half-hysterical. It was all getting a bit much and sweet unconsciousness was calling. His logical mind screamed at him to stop. "What could you possibly want from me?"

"A flatmate."

Aziraphale blinked. His blood pressure dropping. "I beg your pardon?"

Crowley smiled. "Move-in with me?"

That done it. Aziraphale's adrenaline addled brain slammed the shut down button. Manging one final response before it took him down. "Get thee behind me, _foul fiend_."

Suddenly without support Aziraphale dropped. 

Crowley watched, fascinated as his future flatmate slumped somewhat stupidly to the floor.

It was probably the lack of blood. Possibly shock. None of it life-threatening. 

He stepped politely over Aziraphale, the sun had set enough so that he was free to move around. Blocking up the windows once more. Clearly, there were worse things than sunlight outside. There was no telling what dangers lurked beyond the boundary. Other dick vampires or rude werewolves. Blade wannabes and UV wielding psychopaths.

Nuisance neighbours talking shit about dominions and Staten Island. If he had to hear the words _'submit to my dark power'_ one more time he was going to fucking-

Aziraphale sighed in his sleep, dragging Crowley from his plummeting mood. 

Right. He sort of had a flatmate now. What would a good flatmate do? Awkwardly and unsure Crowley knelt down and scooped the hunter into his arms. Finding him insanely soft and warm to the touch. Carrying him with absolute ease Crowley moved through and deposited Aziaraphale onto the bed in the guest bedroom. 

Well not the guest room, Aziraphale's room. Shutting the door Crowley was elated. Higher than his neighbour Nandor had been after a night on the town, drinking drug blood. Turning up at the door with a traffic cone on his head and proclaiming that he was a wizard. 

Crowley felt _better_ than that.

Thank you universe. 


	3. Chapter 3

"You want me to just say it don't you?" Crowley growled. Annoyed that he was right back in the company of other immortals. Ones that didn't- couldn't understand. "He pissed off."

"He what?" Laszlo had gotten lost earlier on in the conversation. When Crowley had shown up in the shittiest mood of the century. Explaining that he had found _the one_. A promising potential.  
  
A flatmate. 

"Pissing? He's not a bloody werewolf, is he? Crowley!" Nadja hissed. "You can't like a big bloody dog. Where would you keep it?"

"Relax. He's human." Crowley bit his lip to stop the next line from slipping out. What kind of human didn't matter. He'd changed the story of how they'd met. 

"So what happened?" Laszlo urged. Interested again as he picked up the thread of conversation.  
"You asked and then what?"

"Some... stuff happened. I invited him to stay and he said- well it doesn't matter but he wasn't exactly open to the idea."

Nandor didn't blink. "He said no."

"Different words but same expression."

"He said no," Nandor said again. Mystified as he stared at the others. "Maybe he has a house already?"

"Maybe he doesn't fancy you." Nadja threw in bluntly, examining her sharp-tipped nails. Her cool blue eyes occasionally accessing. "You should seduce him, show him how wild with passion you are! Let him feel your throbbing-"

"It's not like that."

It was like that. A bit. Crowley was at heart a romantic. Not a sex pest. 

Nadja sat back in her chair, annoyed by the break of excitement. "Then what is it like? Go on tell us. Mr bloody boring."

Crowley said nothing. He wasn't sure what he was trying to say or what he wanted. What was he hoping for? Validation? Advice? It was all new territory.

"Let's just back up a moment here." Laszlo jumped in. "What exactly did he say when you made your proposal?"

"Get thee behind me, foul fiend."

There was a beat of silence. 

"And he knows you're a vampire?"

"He's... well aware of our world yes."

"That's flirting then. You can work with that."  
  
Crowley suppressed suspicion. "I can?"

"Of course you can! A good looking chap like you with the car thing and the hips. Have you ever made a pornography film? Nothing better to put one in the right mood."  
  
Laszlo reminisced, "I could lend you some of mine if you're feeling randy."  
  
Nadja was at Crowley's ear within a second. "Don't say yes. It is all very boring, very dull. It would put crying babies to sleep."

"What was that my dear?"

Slipping sweetly into her seat Nadja patted Laszlo in an affectionate fashion. "Just a few ideas. Ones that work on you."

Laszlo's eyes flickered towards the stairs. His mind well and truly gone. "I say, should we retire to our chambers?"

Nandor made a childish sound. "Everything works on Laszlo. Don't listen to these perverts." As the would-be leader of the group or 'big turkey on the farm' as Nadja dubbed him Nandor clasped his hands together. Ready to give a verdict. "Crowley. Speak from your heart. If that does not work be relentless."

"You could always just burn down his village."

Crowley took a long moment to process the suggestion. Coming from the only female perspective in the room. Crowley was mildly concerned. "I'm not burning down Soho."  
  
"It would show that you are serious!" Nadja enthused. Slamming her clenched hand onto the table. Her dark cascading curls bouncing. "Passion is exciting. Flames fuel the fire. Go now, sweep this _Azirap-hale_ off his feet." 

Laszlo backed his beloved wife. "Hunt him down. But in a very sexy way. Don't take any of the bullshit. Humans are full with it." 

Smiling indulgently Crowley wondered what planet his neighbours were actually on. Because it wasn't Earth. This wasn't the past, you couldn't just go around burning and pillaging for a lark. Steal whoever you fancy, chuck them into a fucking longboat and set sail. 

Nandor saw him to the door. "Be firm but friendly. Find out what he cares about and threaten to destroy it."

Laughing at his own idea of a joke Nandor placed a hand to Crowley's shoulder. "But don't really destroy it." He grinned. Impressed. As if the idea were a stroke of genius and not just a display of psychopathic behaviour. 

Luckily Crowley had already done the hunting part. After finding his flat empty the next night. Aziraphale nowhere to be found. London was a big place but the scent was still fresh. Easy enough to follow. It had lead back to Soho and a boring bookshop. 

A.Z. Fell and Co.

A victorian looking thing sitting snug on Greek Street. 

Inside under soft glowing lights was Aziraphale. Surrounded by an assortment of books, old as anything and expensive at a glance. He was wearing layers and looking delicious. Scratch that, ridiculous. Future flatmates and possible love interests can't look appetising. It wasn't a good start. 

Thinking that foreplay would be like having a private game of pass the parcel or strip poker. Crowley didn't have enough patience or wear enough clothes to win. 

As a respectable and not a sad sap of a vampire Crowley had spent three nights just staring. From a safe distance beyond the glass. In the gloom. Stalking a man who was a walking contradiction. A vampire hunter and rare book dealer. Fussy, soft. Somehow slaying the supernatural in his spare time. It wasn't a full-time gig, it probably didn't even pay a wage. A secret for sure.   
  
It was madness to think that this could work. To want it to work. 

But here he was. On night four. Determined to do more. Crowley passed his own flat fresh from a discussion that was hardly worth having. Tonight he would actually talk to Aziraphale. Act his age and take that necessary step to establish contact. If it went badly (like a splash of holy water to the face bad) then tomorrow night might see a bag of provisions swinging by Crowley's side. A good old fashioned box of matches. Maybe a can or two of lighter fluid. Worst case scenario.

Right now he had a bookshop to menace. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you who give kudos and comments ღ

"Move in with me."

And so it started. Not even a with a hello.

Aziraphale stood behind the safety of his shop door. Annoyed that gesturing to the prominently displayed _'closed'_ sign did nothing. Finally, a bit beyond frustrated he opened his door dubiously. Just enough to cause problems. "Go away."

Crowley cleared his throat. He'd been getting louder and louder. "Move in with me."

It wasn't what he had planned to say as an opener. He'd wanted to be charming, funny, lead casually up to it. Like a normal person.

Not shout it from the freaking rooftops. "I mean, move in with me... please."

Nailed it. 

"It's not a matter of how you ask it," Aziraphale stated steady. Sort of hiding behind the door.  
"My answer will always be no. I mean aside from our brief history I don't even know your name and-"

"Crowley."

There was a beat of hideous silence.  
  
"My name."

Again. Nothing.

"Can I come in?" Crowley chanced. "It's fucking cold out here."  
  
"It's the middle of May."

"Could have fooled me. Cold snaps. Some weather we're having."

Aziraphale eyed his stash of concealed weaponry by the door. Very obviously debating with himself.  
"You don't feel the cold."

"Well... it's dark, isn't it? Sort of dangerous?"

"For everyone else."

"You are not making this easy!" Crowley hissed. Easing up immediately. Humans didn't hiss at each other to get a point across.

Aziraphale was unamused. Unmoved. Crowley could hear the faint drift of the classical Goldberg Variations. The little lights from inside blinked and glowed. 

This was not going smooth. Nothing was sexy. Although there, just for a fraction of a second was the slight flicker of a smile on living lips. "Let me in. It's rude not to. This looks bad for the both of us."

Aziraphale opened the door wider and leaned against the frame. "Does it?"

"Yeah, it looks like I'm getting spectacularly dumped. What would your neighbours say?"

"Nothing more than a brief description of you to the police I'm sure."

Crowley stuffed his hands into his tight pockets. Disappointed that his in date, on-point outfit was clearly not being appreciated. What would other people do in his shoes? Of course Nadja, Laszlo and Nandor came to mind. As did fire. "I don't have a longboat."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not a Viking. Thats what I'm saying." Well, that was a great thing to say. With no context whatsoever.

"It's getting rather late..." Aziraphale started to close the door.   
  
"I'll burn your shop down."

Crowley congratulated himself on that one. The door didn't finish closing. "It's an old trick, we don't need permission if there is no home left." 

Aziraphale stared at him. "How very... Viking of you to say so." 

"Yess! No! I'm really not- no."

Fingers curling around the door Aziraphale began to fidget. "You're not what? A Viking? Or going to burn my books?"

Crowley tried to get closer, cursing the invisible barrier than made him moonwalk. "I'm defiantly not a Viking and I really don't want to burn anything down. But you know," Crowley shrugged. "I will if you don't let me in." The statement hung between them. "I won't do anything weird I swear."

Aziraphale recalled his childhood and the story of the big bad wolf. As an adult, he never imagined that the wolf was real, deeply attractive and in desperate need of a roommate. The very last thing he needed was a public scene. He really couldn't place his books in danger. So Aziraphale opened the door wide, frowning at the bracing night air. "Come in."

He pressed back as the vampire smiled, slinking slyly by like a fox. Closing the door behind him Aziraphale made a quick count of the nearest weapons. Should things turn sour.

"Nice place," Crowley commented, taking it all in. "It's..." the right word alluded him. "Cramped."

If thunder and lightning were human elements they would absolutely be Aziraphale. Crowley turned around, he was getting _chills_. There was no stake pointed his way but a look that could murder a man.  
  
"I said it was nice, didn't I? You live here." It wasn't a question. Crowley knew all about the upstairs. He was a great crawler. 

Moving around again Crowley swept his eyes eagerly over everything. If he wasn't being watched he would have touched things too. He noticed the numerous protective spells and enchantments around the shop. At the door and windows. Invisible to human eyes or easy enough to dismiss as decor. With all the traps and tricks it was almost a shame that vampires could bypass everything with one easy invitation.  
  
"Someone doesn't feel safe."

Aziraphale stiffened. "They are necessary precautions."

"Never had any problems then?"

Thinking back to Oxford Aziraphale hurried to fix the thought. "Not until you came along."

Oxford had been a disaster, he'd been younger and so naive. But things were different now. Soho was different. London was larger. 

"Whatever you say, angel. Let's have a look upstairs shall we?"

"I don't have to defend- wait! What?" Aziraphale fumbled, gawking as the vampire took steady strides towards the stairs. Accept Crowley didn't use them. He walked up the wall instead. In a bizarre display that was meant to be impressive. Not horrifying. But it was in fact _horrifying._   
  
Aziraphale rushed up the stairs the right way. Mortified to see Crowley already in his bedroom, smiling. 

To be fair Crowley had seen something similar, many years ago. A little fling over in New Zealand was it? With a vampire dandy, Diago? Dingo? _Viago._ His taste was non-existent too. 

Aziraphale stood firmly at his bedroom door. Mortified. "You have no right to be in here. Don't-"

Crowley sat down on the bed, his bed. And it _creeeeaked._

Face flushing red Aziraphale wagged his finger. "T-That's going too far!"

Crowley stood up. "Your bed might just be older than I am. It can't be comfortable, none of this is. Or are you going to stand there and tell me otherwise?" Moving to the tiny window Crowley let his hand trace the etched in spell. "With one little scratch, I could ruin this thing."

Aziraphale rushed over to stop him. Startled to find no damage and a sharp-toothed smile. Fangs. Always a good reminder. He took a step back, Crowley followed. "It's dangerous what you do, hard to feel all cosy and safe."

"And moving in with you would solve that?" Aziraphale challenged. Lifting his head defiantly and yet looking like he was waiting to be devoured. 

"Saftey in numbers angel."

Tensing Aziraphale shook his head. "It's madness."

Crowley leaned a little closer. Looming. "Why?"

"Because..." Aziraphale backed up. "You'd kill me." He bumped the window frame and jumped.   
"Or I'd kill you."

"We don't have to. There is a choice right?"

"But we are on opposite sides!"

"I'm very fond of the grey area in between," Crowley shrugged a touch. "We could be on our own side."

Moving around very slowly Crowley smiled as he succeeded in backing the hunter against the wall. Not that Aziraphale did well escaping through windows. "It's unconventional."

"It's crazy."

"Or an opportunity."

Aziraphale pressed so closely to the wall he was practically clinging to it. "Why me?"

It was a good question. They didn't know each other and Aziraphale was a careful kind of person. Revealing next to nothing. He was dangerous. "It's refreshing."

There was no further explanation and Aziraphale was about to overthink it. 

"Give it a month. If you still don't like the idea then you can come back here and I'll never bother you again."

Aziraphale swallowed. Feeling the wall behind him keenly. "And if I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request?"

Crowley smiled, not put off by big words but endeared by them. "I'll annoy you until the day you die and I will burn A.Z. Fell and Co to the ground."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greetings all, I will be updating sporadically. As is my nature. As always kudos and comments make the world go round 🦇

"We should establish some ground rules."

Crowley stared. Just stared. Knowing that it was slightly unnerving. "Alright?"

Aziraphale started to pace. Careful of the wild assortment of boxes, bursting with books and meagre possessions. "Rule number one."

"Is this a going to be a long list by any chance?"

Aziraphale stopped and frowned. "This is what two people do when they share the same space. Negotiation is-"

"It's not exactly a castle," Crowley cut in. "It's just my flat."

Blue eyes cold as flint narrowed. "Then I am just a prisoner?"

"What? No!"

"Then there must be rules!" Aziraphale insisted. "People need boundaries, Crowley. Especially when one considers the notion that you're-" 

Oh. How to continue without sounding rude? Did it matter?

"Go on," Crowley purred. Easily entertained. "Say it exactly how it sounds in your head."

"I'm living, alive. You're... well you're dead."

Crowley laughed, slapping his hand on his knee. "A different kind of _alive_ maybe but I'm not dead. Thats not how it works, not that anyone actually knows how it works. Our ancestry is built on blocks of bullshit. The last time I checked vague ideas is not a historical fact." He sniffed. "We're different but we aren't planets apart."

Aziraphale hummed a soft, low sound. "Yes, but rules, however, should still be established."

Crowley sighed. No one said living with a human was going to be easy. No one had even encouraged it but the haters were gonna hate and the players were going to play. 

Moving into full lounge position on the sofa Crowley waved his hand. "Fine angel, go on. Big fan of rules me."

"Right." Aziraphale resumed pacing. "This whole angel business..."

"Rules!" Crowley shouted.

"Fine!" Aziraphale scowled. "Rule number one, respect. It is very important that-"

Crowley groaned dramatically. "This is how you are going to end me."

Aziraphale stopped again and outright glared. "I'd barely even started. You have no patience! I cannot see how this is going to work if you-"

Crowley moved faster than Aziraphale could blink. He loomed because he did so love a good loom.  
"I understand boundaries, I've put enough up around myself to block out the world for centuries. I get it, I really do. _Aziraphale_ ," Crowley breathed. Making the fine hairs on the nape of Aziraphale's neck stand on end. "Do you have any idea how boring eternity actually is?"

Stepping back Aziraphale bumped his back to the wall. Suppressing a cringe. He kept eye contact, he kept perfectly calm. "People shouldn't just be distractions. You'll get bored with me if you aren't already. What happens then? And if I'm going to live here then I need to be somewhat... comfortable."

Now Crowley had seen a pair of soft, fluffy slippers in one of Aziraphale's boxes. He'd thought better of mentioning it. Weapons were under them no doubt and the hunter's temperament could turn like the tide.

"I could say the same-ish thing to you. How about we agree on this then. If it doesn't work out we'll part ways like everyone else. Without problems or killing and whatnots. It's that simple." 

Aziraphale pursed his lips. "It's not quite that simple. You're a vampire, I'm human. Complications will arise eventually."

"You really don't trust me," a statement not a question.

"Of course I don't."

"You don't know me," Crowley said. As he advanced a step, leaving almost no space between them.

Nervousness saturated the air and yet Aziraphale stayed perfectly still. "I don't," he agreed. "But it's things like this I'm talking about."

"Boundaries?" 

"Boundaries. This is- it's not okay. It's-"

_Intimate._

"Threatening."

"A touch, yes."

"Then tell me off."

Aziraphale looked at him. Up just a little. A tirade of emotions playing out.

Answering the confusion Crowley resisted the temptation to touch. That would be the worst thing he could do. "Argue with me, laugh with me, at me! Hell, I don't care. But be yourself. I don't want you here to simper and agree mindlessly. Around you, I can be my awkward, sexy self. You can be fussy, stuffy and intellectually rude. As much as you like. Fair?"

"I do have manners," Aziraphale pouted.

"Not around me," Crowley joked. "But I like that."

"You threatened to burn my home and my books. You'll have to earn manners amongst other things."

"Sexy times?" Crowley hoped that it was sexy times. Judging by the look upon Aziraphale's face it wasn't. Crowley started to smile stupidly and it caught on. The tension drained and Aziraphale allowed his lips to quirk upwards. Although the proximity was becoming an issue. He could hardly draw air without breathing it back out in the vampire's face.  
  
"Crowley?"

"Yesss?"

"Could I ask you something?"

"Go on," Crowley urged. The energy was positively charged between them. Aziraphale was going to cave, ask for a kiss. Push up onto those tiptoes to get it. Oh yes.

"Would you mind turning into a bat for me? It's just that I've never seen the transformation up close. My notes are... somewhat lacking."

It was not what Crowley was expecting. He took a step back and realised a second too late that Aziraphale had played him. The hunter beamed and slipped to the slide and created respectable distance. Busying himself with his boxes of books, because Aziraphale seemed to own little else.  
"You don't have to of course. I was just curious."

"I can. If you like. Any time. Just say when."

_I'm yours._

Aziraphale hummed, facing away again and obviously pleased.

It was bizarrely domestic, Crowley couldn't help but grin. But of course happy, easy moments are brief and brilliant. The doorbell rang and reality came crashing down like rain. Marching his way to the window Crowley peeked out and dropped into a ridiculous crouch. "Shit!"

"What are you doing?"

"Shhhhh!" Crowley silenced, shoving his finger to his lips. "I'm not here. We are not in. Get down."

The doorbell chimed again. From the hall, the sound of a letterbox being opened echoed ominously.  
"Crow-ley! Wakey - wakey sleepy head! Come to the door."

"A friend of yours?" Aziraphale asked. Folding his arms and giving his best put up look. "I'll get the door then shall I?"

"No! Don't do that. You should be down here with me. You won't like him. He's the one who told me to burn your shop down."

"Oh?" Aziraphale was away into the hall. On a mission. Reaching for the door handle. Getting body tackled from behind he cried out. Stunned as a hand snaked its way to clamp vice-like over his mouth. Crowley was sitting on him again.

The letterbox snapped open with a pop. "Crowley! There you are-" Nandor stared, jaw slightly slack. 

"I'm not in. Go away."

"Are you busy?" 

Crowley didn't care what conclusions Nandor was drawing. Anything to make him leave.  
  
"Yes! Obviously, I'm busy." He could feel irritation burning beneath him. Aziraphale was getting fed up enough to struggle. Which given their positions looked... bad. "I'll catch up with you later."

"I could come back when you are not..."

_On the floor. In a stupid position? Sitting in the ruins of what was a nice moment?_

"Busy." Nandor finished. His expression was one of bafflement and then lewd assumption. 

"I said I'll catch up with you yes? Good. Go away. Don't gossip."

"I'll just leave this on the doorstep then?" Nandor waved what appeared to be a cushion about. It sparked through the small slot in the letterbox. "Humans like soft things to sit on and sleep with." There was a beat of hesitation. "They are also delicate..."

"I'm not- this isn't!" Crowley blanched. As if he body-tackled his partners on wooden floors in dark hallways. He was all about ambience, silly seduction and satin sheets. "I'm not being rough Nandor. Go away."

Aziraphale was a burning ball of fury, embarrassment and murderous intent. He tried to wrench Crowley's hand from his mouth.

"Goodbye!" Crowley hissed. Stuck between a rock and a hard place. Not the same way Aziraphale was but it was just as uncomfortable. 

The letterbox fell closed and Crowley listened with his exceptional hearing. Nandor was really leaving. If he possessed bubbles and balloons Crowley would have used them to celebrate. Not crate paper though, there was never enough variety. "I'm going to let go now okay?"

Aziraphale attempted another impossible bench press to speed up the process. Crowley lifted up and off, pulling Aziraphale to his feet. Tension passed like electricity between them. Aziraphale rigidly fixed his jumper, it had ridden up in the struggle.

Crowley cracked first. "What? I just saved us both. Believe me."

"You cannot just tackle me!"

"Had to do it. You'd gone mad."

Aziraphale scoffed. His blue eyes flickering towards the door and deciding that it was a lost cause. He stormed off towards the kitchen. Crowley could hear the telltale stress sounds, tea was being brewed.

Quietly he moved to the door and opened it. Swooping and snatching up a cushion with hideous sequins and a generic slogan.   
  
The Devil Made Me Do It.

Something in Crowley's brain suggested that Aziraphale would love it. What with him having an angelic name and all. He was going to hate it actually. But it was soft and could still be used. 

Gazing out into the empty street Crowley knew that worlds would have to mix eventually. The kettle boiled and steamed steadily. He couldn't hide Aziraphale forever.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they were roommates.
> 
> The song is Quando Quando Quando by Engelbert Humperdinck.  
> Crowley would absolutely sing cheesy old love songs.

'Tell _me when will you be mine?_  
 _Tell me quando, quando, quando_  
 _We can share a love divine ~'_

"Ah," Aziraphale cleared his throat over the music. "Must you play that so loud?"  
  
"It's the radio!"

"Yes but..."

"Dance with me," Crowley was almost laughing. Swaying to the music with nothing but trouble on his mind. 

"The thing is- it's not really my thing."

"Then sing!"

Aziraphale made a face, singing was also not a thing he did. How had this become his life? Being encouraged to do things, to have fun. Crowley was nothing if not contagious. Dressed all in sleek black lines and moving his hips as if he were motion itself. 

And then there was the singing...

"When will you say _yes_ to me? Tell me quando, quando, quannnnndoooo." Crowley's tone was pitch-perfect, he swayed to the easy rhythm and Aziraphale found himself choking on air. Then the vampire fiend moved _closer._

"You mean happiness to me. Oh, my love, please tell me when."

Now if asked Aziraphale would tell you that he didn't blush and run out of the room. He heard something like his phone or distressed animal noise. Anything to get him out of that charming moment of pure, nonsensical hell. 

...

Crowley chuckled, flopping back onto the sofa with blind ease. It was the little moments. Some designed to endear or deeply annoy. Anything to bring the two of them together. Little by little Aziraphale was starting to settle, to not perceive any kind of threat. 

Humming along to a new something song Crowley briefly tried to recall the last time he felt content. The time and place eluded him. Better to let the radio waves invade his brain than to think about things further. 

...

Behind his reinforced bedroom door Aziraphale tried to find his centre. There was absolutely no need to get so flustered. He wasn't a child or even all that young. It was all so silly. Crowley was completely ridiculous. Cheesy and charming, going the extra mile to show that he was as good as a vampire could be. 

Privately, very privately Aziraphale admitted to himself that Crowley was okay. Deep, _deep_ down he might even find the red-headed devil extremely attractive. Which was problematic and insane. Another example of bad self-preservation. Hadn't his mother always said he'd had a god awful taste in men? That he was going to hell for his sins? Maybe but if her words had any truth to them then Aziraphale was sure that he'd see her down there.

Everything with Crowley had been a bit hasty. The whole idea of slaying said vampire had been impulsive. 

"It wasn't even him," Aziraphale muttered to himself in the mirror. Glad that the heat had faded from his cheeks. He wondered if he wore too many layers. Indoors, outdoors... to bed. He couldn't exactly just slink about in stylish tight clothes. But perhaps an undershirt, long-sleeved shirt and a woollen jumper were overdoing it.

It had transpired that the sudden and brutish killings had been something/someone else. Aziraphale had assumed it was Crowley, a vampire he'd become recently aware of in the local area. An event that occurred quite by chance one gloomy little evening. Crowley had been a complete stranger, just wandering along in the crowd. Yet he was handsome and so carefree it had caused Aziraphale to stop and stare a moment. Clutching a bag of warm pastries in his hands Aziraphale guiltily watched the stranger across the street. Wondering what it would be like to have the confidence to say hello. He watched as the strange passed by a glossy shop that sold shiny things.

No reflection. The man had no reflection in shop front glass! The little bubble of attraction burst. It was enough for Aziraphale to jump the gun, to fumble and make a bold assumption. One that ended with him jammed in a bathroom window for his trouble.

Of course, Crowley wasn't the only vampire or supernatural entity around. Whoever had murdered innocents had left no trace and nothing to track. As far as Aziraphale could tell that _person_ was as good as gone from merry London town. 

They'd briefly discussed it, naturally. Crowley had even laughed about it. _'As if I'd kill kids angel.'_

And that was that. 

...

"It's basic stuff for us," Crowley explained proudly. "Turning into a bat is a basic skill, every vampire can do it."

Aziraphale nodded, scribbling away in his leather-bound journal. He was sitting on the sofa, satisfied. He put his book down and waited. "You have my undivided attention."

Crowley liked that. He loved it, basked in it. "How we transform is hard to explain. It's just like an idea, a thought that is _bat_. Be a bat. Become the bat!" Sticking out his chest Crowley threw his hands on his hips. "I don't even need to say it out loud."

Aziraphale's hands squeezed together in anticipation. Crowley cracked a smile, winked and-

_~Poof~_

A bat fluttered around the ceiling, squeaking and squealing. Aziraphale gasped, "oh!"

Crowley did a little dive, swooping low enough to make Aziraphale duck. Chasing him around the room to keep sight. "How wonderful."

Chittering a cheer Crowley fluttered on the spot in front of Aziraphale. Both absolutely fascinated by each other. Lost to the moment Aziraphale reached up high above himself. Brushing his fingertips up and up until they touched Crowley's little bat belly.

_~Poof~_

Bat Crowley was no more. A man-sized shape fell from mid-air and there was nothing but limbs, gravity and ground. Still stunned Aziraphale held his breath as Crowley's lips hovered above his own. Their noses touched. Above him, on top of him (again) was Crowley. No longer furry or fun-sized. Looking for all the world completely stunned. Holding himself up on his elbows and knees by instinct rather than effort. 

Fighting the heat from his face Aziraphale turned his head slightly. Determined not to entertain dangerous thoughts. 

Crowley, in turn, made a noise. "You know that's never happened to me before." He blinked. "I just wasn't expecting... I was surprised."

Aziraphale made no effort to move, he felt no need. Even although he should be shoving and shouting. For dignities sake. "No, no. It was my mistake entirely, I really shouldn't have presumed."

"Na, it was nice."  
  
"Falling from mid-air was nice?"

"I landed on something soft."

Crowley received a good shove for that and sat up. Scooting off of Aziraphale. Together they sat opposite each other on the floor. "I could go again."

Aziraphale smiled, folding his legs into a more comfortable position. "Best not. I might do something silly again. I do tend to get carried away."

Nodding Crowley filed that information away for another time. "Questions?"

"Oh dozens," Aziraphale chuckled. Mustering up the courage he leaned over a little he smoothed down a crease in Crowley's black jacket. "How does it feel?"

Crowley watched the movement, felt the warm press through his shirt. "To fly?"

"Well of course." It was as if they were sharing some profound secret. "What else would I mean?"

"Normal, now. But great. Like I could go anywhere I wanted to. Whenever I wanted to. Sometimes I'll just fly for hours over the city."

A wistful look passed over Aziraphale. His blue eyes distant. "That must be lovely. To just get away from it all."

"You know..." Crowley lured. "I don't have to be a bat to fly."

Aziraphale's heartbeat quickened. "Oh?" Blood thundered through his veins. 

"I could show you?"

Holding out his hand Crowley flexed his fingers. "I'll be careful, it'll be safe."

Unfortunately, it made Aziraphale move back. "I-I couldn't possibly! People would see us and I'm much too heavy for that sort of thing."

"I've literally freed you from my bathroom window. Nobody saw or heard a thing when that happened. And you're not heavy. I'd like the company."

There it was. Hesitation, a definite desire flashed behind blue eyes. Even as the frown formed.  
"I should write up my notes. I'm hopeless if it's not done right away."

"And after that?"

"I'll get some sleep. The bookshop won't open itself."

Crowley watched Aziraphale stand. "Consistency is key I always say." He was rambling, they both knew it.

Aziraphale picked up his journal and smiled nervously. "Thank you for that. It was educational and good fun."

Crowley smiled, knowing that the sharp tips of his teeth showed. "Anytime angel. The offers always open."

"Right good. Grand. Well uh- goodnight then?"

Giving into Aziraphale's needs Crowley relaxed. Despite still sitting on the floor. "It's still early for me. Late for you."

"Oh! I almost forgot. One more question, if you don't mind?"

"Shoot."

"When you transform where do your clothes go?" 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale get invited to the Biannual Vampire Orgy. Of course, that's not what's written on the invitation. Crowley decides it'll be a hilarious surprise. 
> 
> What could possibly go wrong?

"It appears that we have an invitation."

Crowley wasn't really listening when Aziraphale spoke. He was busy lounging and flicking through channels. 

"I'd say it's about time for me to meet them. Wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," Crowley hummed. Making a disgusted face as Love Island momentarily flashed on the screen. "Meet who?"

Aziraphale moved in front of the tv, frowning. "Your friends."

The phrase 'I don't have any _friends_ ' seemed a bit sad so Crowley avoided it. "Again who?"

Human emotions were sometimes hard to place. Aziraphale's expression was as if a cat had started tap dancing. "Nadja, Laszlo and Nandor." Before transitioning into the tango. 

Crowley swung his lanky legs down and sat up straight. Defensive. " _They_ aren't my friend's angel. You wouldn't like them. They're..."

"Vampires?" Aziraphale was almost smiling, "are you sure they aren't your chums? This invitation seems to suggest otherwise. It appears as if they know you intimately."

The phrasing clued Crowley in, quick as a flash he swiped the invitation away. Now it didn't strictly say it was a vampire orgy but that is exactly what it was. Was it the end of days? If Nadja and Laszlo were hosting then it probably was. "You want to go to this?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't want to go?"

Lots of reasons really but Crowley kept quiet, finding it all deeply funny. 

"They do know that I'm human don't they?"

"Yep."

"But no more than that?"

"Obviously. I was vague."

"Good," Aziraphale pated his jumper down. "Then there shouldn't be any problems."

"When is it?" Crowley asked, having not had the patience to read down. 

"Tomorrow night, you failed to open it over a week ago."

"Great, we have plans. Just be sure to not wear what you're wearing now. No jumpers. No extra layers." It would entice people to presume that Aziraphale was a party favour. A kind of sexy pass the parcel number. 

"What your wearing is fine," Crowley elaborated. It was important to be comfortable at home after all. "But it won't be exciting enough for a get-together."

Aziraphale frowned, "I've been to parties before Crowley. I'm not a complete shut-in." And yet everything about Aziraphale suggested otherwise. The books, the chocolate cake, the _tea_. 

"I'll bet you were wild as a kid."

Rolling his very blue eyes with a put upon sigh Aziraphale left the room. His jumpers were wonderful but it wouldn't hurt to snazz things up a bit. 

...

Tonight would be fright night and Crowley couldn't stop grinning as he got himself tarted up. Whenever vampires gathered he liked to be the best looking. It didn't require much effort if his ego was telling the truth and nothing but the truth. Life wasn't worth living if you didn't care about how you looked and how others saw you. It was shallow but for many vampires, the world over it was a universal truth. Jane Austen just never wrote about it in Pride and Prejudice but _it was there_. 

As he swiped up his hair Crowley wished, as he always did that a mirror would reflect his image. It would be so much freaking easier. 

Aziraphale was waiting for him in the living room. Not tarted up but dolled up. Not a jumper in sight but a bloody cream coloured waistcoat with fitted trousers, snazzy old-styled shoes and an overcoat that reached his knees. 

"You're going to actually wear that?"

The hunter bristled a little, "it's called style dear. You wouldn't understand."

Crowley barked a laugh, marched over and linked arms with Aziraphale. Preceding to drag him out the door and jovially down the street. 

...

In his younger days, Crowley had attended many famed vampire orgies. He wasn't ashamed and he certainly wasn't shy. But he'd never mentioned any of it to Aziraphale. Sexuality was still quite repressed amongst humans. Tonight he would witness so much surprise and embarrassment from Aziraphale he could forgo blood altogether and live off the rush and laughter alone. 

It certainly helped to drive the bitter memory of Mike's party away, the one that had put him completely off of orgy's in the first place. Fucking Mike. May he long remain a shame bat. Flying forever low. Getting freaky with some random vampire was one thing but having to make small talk all evening was utterly unforgivable. 

Within a few minutes, they were standing at the door to their neighbour's lair. Crowley tried to keep a delirious grin off his face. He knocked, Nadja opened it fast and in high stressed spirits. "Welcome! Wel- Oh, it's just you two."

"Good to see you too Nadja. Looking good. More clothed than I was expecting." 

Aziraplahe stood scowling up a storm as he was dragged by his wrist into the home without an introduction. Which was rude.

It was busy inside. A crowd of vampires started to stare, some pressed forward.

Nadja was quick to announce them, "everybody! These are our neighbours. Please do not eat -" she leaned in inconspicuously. "What is your name?"

"Aziraphale," Aziraphale said. Wanting to offer his hand. But Crowley stopped him.

"Please do not eat Azira-fell." She flashed a look at Crowley who returned it tenfold. 

There was a groan throughout the eager crowd. 

"But he's not completely off-limits," Crowley submitted. "It is a party after all."

Aziraphale attempted to stamp on Crowley's foot, missing he felt Crowley catch his wrist again. "Relax angel, it's just a bit of fun."

"At my expense. What kind of party is this?"

As they moved through the crowd Aziaraphle felt hands sliding over him, when one hand slid low he jumped. _Really now_ , that was too forward. He snapped a look at Crowley, who was close to him in the crush. "Tell me that was you."

It wasn't and Crowley huffed a laugh. Placing an arm around Aziraphale. Effectively easing the tension and warding off the unwanted touches of others. "Someone just copped a feel," Aziraphale stated, still in disbelief. 

"Don't worry about it," Crowley grinned. All teeth. "It's dark in here." A few hands brushed over Crowley in greeting. "This is how people say hello."

Seemingly unaware of what kind of looks and attention he was getting Aziraphale prattled on. "It's terribly rude is what it is. I thought this was going to be a hearty social gathering. Not a nightclub jamboree. Perhaps I better head back."

"It's not safe to go home alone," Crowley mused in Aziraphale's ear. The heat between them tangible. "It's far too _dangerous_."

Now Aziraphale could have pointed out that he was a capable adult, that he hunted vampires and that he was perfectly capable of protecting himself. But crushed against Crowley amidst the noise, chaos and dull electric light Aziraphale was lost. "Perhaps you best take me home."

"Sorry! I didn't catch that." Crowley cooed. He heard, he just wanted to hear it again. 

"I said," Aziraphale announced loudly over what he thought would be continuous music. "You better take me home!" The music had cut out before he started that hellish sentence. Some idiot was changing the track. 

Turning red Aziraphale cringed as the crowd hooted and hollered. Giving Crowley saluting slaps on the back and laughing. Crowley was in his element. "In a minute, we've only just arrived!"

Aziraphale looked at Crowley with murder in his eyes.

"You wanted to learn more about vampire culture didn't you?" Crowley's arms were winding around, Aziraphale felt all but dizzy. "Besides you'll miss the surprise."  
  
Aziraphale's eyes narrowed. What was coming would be bad. Bad in epic proportions. "What surprise?"

As if to answer the question Aziraphale was asking Nandor appeared at the top of the stairs. "It's time to party!" He announced. Marching down the first steps, still partially hidden by the bannister, tripping he tumbled loudly down the rest.

All blood drained from Aziraphale's face as Nandor The Relentless reached ground level. The vampire was nearly naked and wearing an unbelievable dildo contraption around his waist. In the same fashion as a lady would wear a steel-hooped cage crinoline. Under her dress. Nandor or the letterbox madman Aziraphale knew him as stood up, adjusted himself. Almost unable to take his eyes off of the worst thing he'd ever seen Aziraphale frantically stole looks around the rest of the room. Only just now seeing all the sex objects and scenes.

He turned to Crowley. "Did you know about this?"

"I didn't know that Nandor would be wearing that. Christ! He'll be the last one to get laid." 

Aziraphale felt sick. Someone bumped him as they moved towards the electric chair. Which used real electricity. Pressing desperately close to Crowley Aziraphale hissed. "Why didn't you warn me!?!"

"You wanted to meet the neighbours." Crowley shrugged. It was a genius way to put Aziraphale off, to ward him away forever and then some.

"I wanted to meet the neighbours Crowley, not be defiled by them."

"Everything here is 100% consensual." Crowley corrected. "Nobody here has to do anything they don't want to do and no one will bother you because you're with me."

"Oh," Aziraphale scoffed. Trying to pry Crowley's fingers from his arms. "Leader of the pack are you? Called dibs or stuck a warning note on my back?" He really wouldn't put it past the devil. 

Crowley let a slow, seductive smile play across his lips. Relishing the closeness. "Use your imagination angel."

He expected Aziraphale to fluster or to laugh it off. Instead, Aziraphale successfully freed himself and threw a right hook which caught Crowley square in the face. Knocking his sunglasses askew. It wasn't the great surprise he'd been expecting. The possibility that it hadn't been the best of ideas or ways to endear himself started to sink in. Bemused Crowley stood alone, barley comprehending the image of Aziraphale disappearing into the crowd and out of sight. 

...

Bumping into Nadja Crowley tried to keep the 'I've done something stupid' look off of his face. But Nadja knew, she stood blocking his way and Crowley's skin crawled with impatience. 

"Dumped already?" Nadja laughed. Her dark eyes bright. "How very sad for you!"

"Yeah well, I don't see Laszlo around."

That wiped the red smile right off her lips. "Laszlo is being very stupid. He is sulking upstairs."

"I don't care and I don't have time. Did you see where Aziraphale went?"

"I mean is it so bloody bad to tell the truth? His pornography is horribly boring."

Ah. They were having two different conversations. 

"Have you seen it?"

Placing his hands gently on her shoulders Crowley tried to move Nadja. "I'd blind myself first." She didn't budge but batted his hands away. Something in her face changed and Crowley felt a hand slam down on his shoulder. 

"Crow~ley you came!"

Nandor's cage contraption created distance which Crowley truly appreciated. "Have you seen Aziraphale?"

Nadja slipped away into the crowd, evidently not interested in their sausage fest. 

Nandor grinned. "Did you get into a little argument at the party?" As if Nandor would know. He couldn't tell when others wanted him dead and buried.

"A misunderstanding."

"That's the same thing. Were you not being delicate?"

Unlike with Nadja Crowley started to shove Nandor out of the way. Causing the other vampire to chuckle. "Crowley! Are you being relentless again?"

His leg bouncing in acute irritation Crowley tried to duck around. Trying to avoid touching any part of Nandor's sex shop contraption. "Now, now. There is plenty of fishes in the sea."

Crowley stopped his escape. For one heart-stopping moment, he thought Nandor was hitting on him. It was piss poor timing, then again he wasn't sure when the timing would ever have been right. "But true love is very sweet." Not flirting. Thank _someone_ up there or downstairs. 

"You are worried, Guillermo will find him. Won't you Guillermo?" Crowley's gaze slid over to Nandors long-suffering familiar. Who gave a slightly exaggerated eye roll. "Of course Master," and moved quickly into the crowd. "Don't worry," Nandor enthused. "He'll shriek like a lady if he gets into any trouble."

"Aziraphale?"

"No," Nandor laughed. "Guillermo. He's quite clumsy you know." Lifting his hands Nandor attempted air quotes. "Hopeless. Helpless. As all humans are."

 _Except for vampire hunters_ , Crowley mentally supplied. But that only extended to Aziraphale. Vampire Hunters weren't exactly a dime a dozen. You couldn't just throw a stick and thwack a Hunter. The party was a hostile environment. Aziraphale's secret could be discovered at any moment. 

Crowley swiped at his face, "what the hell was I thinking?"

Why hadn't he just suggested a date night instead? The worst thing Aziraphale could have done was said no. Here he could actually die. 

As if to add torment to his torture a glitterball descended and Sophie Ellis-Bextor's song Murder On The Dance Floor started to play. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vampire brawl in the vulva garden anyone?

Aziraphale moved through the party absolutely incensed. Why had he trusted Crowley? Even for the smallest second? Clearly, it was easier to hunt vampires than it was to befriend one. 

"What an utter fool," Aziraphale muttered to himself. Pushing past bodies doing God knows what to each other in darkened hallways. He marched for an exit but moved primarily away from the party scenes as fast as he could without running. Better to not draw that kind of attention, predators noticed movement on an instinctual level. 

Very briefly Aziraphale debated hiding because that was the adult thing to do rather than risk running into Crowley. Stupid Crowley. It was embarrassing to even think that for the briefest moment that something could have happened. Under the lights, drowned by sound and pressed intimately close. As if everything else ceased to exist, a bubble for two. It really didn't help Aziraphale's habit of falling arse over tit for idiots. And Anthony J. Crowley was currently the collective King when it came to idiots. A self-appointed God in fact.

Pressing his hand against the wall Aziraphale sighed. "When will you learn old boy? People like that don't fall for... well. They just don't fall."

Aziraphale tried not to take it personally. He did not succeed. Ahead of him was a side staircase. A noise from the hallway had Aziraphale bounding up the steps, thinking it was Crowley giving chase. Good lord!

Was he angry? Were there witnesses? What exactly were the consequences? Once at the top Aziraphale took a quick look back at nothing. Empty space. He hesitated. Perhaps it would be better to make a run for the back door? Or wait upstairs for a while? Looking along the quiet second floor Aziraphale ventured further. At least this part of the house was peaceful. Dimly lit and didn't smell of pheromones. Passing a reflective surface he stopped. Eyeing his outfit. "Don't wear a jumper." Aziraphale tutted. Reverting to old childhood ideals. The odd bookworm who got asked on a date by the school heartthrob. When did that ever actually happen? Outside of wishful fantasies and escapist books. And yet here he was, dressed in his best gear in a stupid, dangerous situation.

"Jumper can be quiet sexy," came a ridiculous, over accentuated voice. And yet distinctly British. From a room up the hall, the vampire appeared. On his top half a dress coat and on the bottom hideous green sweat pants. It wasn't threatening, nor was the man wearing it. "But I'm not coming to the orgy. You cannot tempt me. I'm simply not in the mood." 

"No," Aziraphale hesitated. "Neither am I."

Dark eyes stared back at him. "Sorry but who the fuck are you?"

Spurred into habitual politeness Aziraphale introduced himself. "My apologies, I'm Aziraphale your new neighbour from... down the street."

Aziraphale could practically see the hamster charging around the wheel of thought before him. The raven-haired vampire was thoroughly confused by the human neighbour aspect and was clearly considering performing the right of brain scramblies. "I live with Crowley."

"Ah hah! Bravo!" A mad burst out laughter erupted. "So you're the reason old JJ's been walking around with no blood in his brain! Fan-fucking-tastic." Sticking out his hand the raven-haired undead smiled, "Laszlo Cravensworth. Nadja's husband and Lord of the man~or!"

Aziraphale shook the hand, only slightly worried about where it had previously been. He refused to think about the no blood in the brain comment. 

"Nice outfit, snazzy. What exactly are you dressed as?"

Were sex parties also fancy dress parties? Aziraphale didn't know. He didn't _want_ to know. Before he could even think to answer Laszlo clapped his hands. Demanding attention. "I've got it. A sex-starved priest right? A man of Gaaahhh! Of _the cloth_ , just dying to be ravished by a dark creature of the night!"

"Well no-"

"Or," Laszlo's eyes were bright and wild. "A librarian, who is unwittingly sexy." He was clearly getting carried away in the realms of bad fetish fantasy. "Walking home late one night only to be caught by a hungry vampire." Laszlo winked. "But not for blood."

"Um," Aziraphale's anxiety levels rose. "No. I rather think you've got the wrong idea about me. I'm not in fancy dress."

Now it could have been an awkward and embarrassing situation. Luckily Laszlo was well and truly above such things as giving a shit. Socially or otherwise. "A snazzy dresser then, mmm. I thoroughly approve." Aziraphale smiled despite the off-putting purr that had occurred at the end. "A man after my own heart."

Was it just the party or were all male vampires first-hand scoundrels and terrible flirts?

"You know," Laszlo said in a conspiratorial fashion. Examining his painted black nails. "We could keep each other company."

Aziraphale took a solid step back. "Kind of you to offer, very generous really but no. I need to head home. Could I perhaps sneak out the back door? I ah, wouldn't want to upset Mrs Cravensworth by leaving so soon."

"What about AJ?"

"Well..." Aziraphale tried to think up another lie. But with the sting and adrenalin of the night's events still fresh he gave up caring. "Bit of a mishap on that front I'm afraid. I punched him in the face so it's probably best we not to see each other again so soon."

Half expecting disgust or outrage Aziraphale jumped as Laszlo belly laughed, a round, dirty and delightful sound. "My lips are sealed, old chum. If anyone asks I never saw you." There was a distinctly sly smile on display, one in which Aziraphale returned in earnest. 

"Head out through the back door downstairs, it's on the left. You'll have to walk through my garden to get to the street. Erotic topiary is an art, believe me when I say that you won't be disappointed."

Aziraphale had heard stories about the vulva garden. It was like a legend, better heard and not seen.

...

Approximately seven people had made serious advances on Crowley during his quest. Four of them had been fucking gorgeous and yet all he could think of was Aziraphale. He'd probably left, he was probably home tearing up the flat and setting things on fire.

As Crowley sidestepped yet another couple he considered the worst possible scenario. That Aziraphale was in trouble, possibly even dying or dead. Crowley violently shoved a drug blood vampire aside to see into a room dedicated entirely to ceiling sexcapades. It wasn't the sort of space Aziraphale would willingly be in, if he wasn't gone he'd seek somewhere quiet. A place to regroup and desensitize.

At a serious stretch, Crowley trusted that Nadja, Laszlo and Nandor would never cross that line. Do something that would hurt him directly or indirectly but there were so many unknown vampires wandering about now it was impossible not to panic.

Where in the flying fuck was Aziraphale?

...

The garden in which Aziraphale found himself was large. Fenced off from the outside world. Before him stretched a mini type of maze. Shurberry cut into the most remarkable and graphic of shapes. As he wandered through Aziraphale thought he heard a sound before something barreled into him. Vice like arms wrapped around his middle. Instinct kicked into gear as Aziraphale threw his head back to crack into the nose of his assailant. 

"Jesus fuck!" The grip was gone. Spinning around into a defensive position Aziraphale blinked as he caught sight of "Crowley?"

The redhead stood a few feet away, holding his head skywards and pitching his nose. "Yeah?"

"What on earth are you doing!?!"

"Urgh," Crowley lowered his head to look at Aziraphale. "You almost broke my nose."

"I thought I was under attack!"

Knowing his voice sounded silly whilst pinching his nose Crowley let his hand fall. "I think you'll find that was a relief hug."

Aziraphale didn't know what to say. 

"Are you alright?" Crowley asked. Eyeing him carefully, analyzing for any damage or distress. 

"Am I alright? Aren't you angry? Upset?"

"Nah, not really. My bad wasn't it. I wanted to say sorry but you disappeared so fast I lost track of you."

"Well yes," Aziraphale felt his face heating. "That was rather the idea."

"Forgive me?" Crowley was smiling and yet under it, Aziraphale could sense the uncertainty. The vampire was out of his depth. In fact, he was drowning. With style. 

"It wasn't funny you know," Aziraphale gestured. "All of this, you could have just told me. You should have."

Crowley nodded, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I'm stupid angel, what can I say."

"Oh I wouldn't go that far," Aziraphale smirked. "Misguided certainly."

Smiling back Crowley just had to ask, "are we okay?"

"As long as we can go home and I can watch The Proms without any sarcasm then yes. All will be forgiven."

"Small price to pay."

Around them came the rustling of others. Aziraphale noticed how quickly Crowley appeared right by his side. "Freinds of yours?"

As the other vampires emerged into view there was nothing remotely friendly or familiar about them. It took Crowley a matter of seconds to realise that these were uninvited guests, which made them dangerous. 

Moving in front of Aziraphale Crowley blocked their view. "Whatever happens stay behind me." He could feel the warm grip of Aziraphale's fingers on his arm. Tight and insistent. 

"I can help, you know I can."

Crowley wished he could explain that if Aziraphale was outed as a hunter it wouldn't be the end of their problems but the beginning. It was risk against risk. Crushing Aziraphale close Crowley whispered, "please play along." He hung on as he turned to the horde and scoffed. "Now, now. There is no need for any trouble yeah? But this human right here." He gave Aziraphale a possessive squeeze ignoring the gasp. "Is mine. And I don't share."

That got exactly no response. In fact unfriendly wasn't accurate, both Crowley and Aziraphale could sense the certainly that no one was to be left alive. That was when the floodlights snapped on. Much to the screams of horrified vampires, dashing away in all directions. Jumping in bushes, ponds and over garden fences. It wasn't 100% electric light.

"Are you alright!?!"

Crowley turned towards Aziraphale with a smile. Tapping his sunglasses, "style saves me yet again."

Before either could say more a blur darted from the nearest vulva bush. Crowley's jaw dropped as he saw Nandor's familiar swing out from the side and stake stab the assailant swiftly in the heart. A death wail and then dust.

The spectacled Hispanic hero turned towards them with an uncertain smile. 

"Fuck me," Crowley blurted. His hand still refusing to let go of Aziraphale. Was every human he knew a fucking vampire hunter? Was Anathema out there right now Buffying it up? Weren't hunters supposed to be rare? Now he personally knew two! Both of which actually lived with vampires. What the freaking fuck? 

Another vampire darted out from the bush nearest to Crowley. Guillermo tossed a spare stake over and Crowley could do little more than watch as Aziraphale dispatched the villain. "I'm going fucking insane here. That or the true death has taken me." Crowley startled from his pity party as Aziraphale nudged him. 

"Don't be so dramatic dear. This is an interesting turn of events."

"No." Crowley looked at both humans before continuing. "This is crazy."

"It just happened," Guillermo explained. Staying exactly where he was. "Back on Staten Island Baron Afanas came to stay. It really was an accident when I opened the door in the morning! The vampire council blamed Nandor, Nadja and Laszlo for his death. We escaped but they've held a grudge ever since. Thats why we moved. To be safe." Looking around the space of light Guillermo fidgeted. "They don't really know about all of this. I'm only doing this to protect them."

Crowley snorted, "had a lot of practice have you?"

"I'm-" Guillermo settled on Aziraphale. "I'm a descendant of Abraham Van Helsing actually."

Feeling an icy chill Crowley stopped himself from flinching. "But you're a familiar! Your Nandor's familiar!"

"Well, I still want to become a vampire. If Antonio Banderas do it then so can I."

"That's a film! Come on!"

Aziraphale stepped in, "I don't think now is really the time for chit chat. We aren't out of the woods just yet."

Sure enough around them, a few figures were still lingering, just beyond the borders of the floodlights. Crowley decided he really did have to get some, ask Gizmo Van-fucking- Helsing about it if they lived long enough.

"We need to deal with them," Guillermo stated. Repositioning the grip on his stake. 

It was a shit show of secrets. Blood and secrets, Crowley wasn't about to argue. He eyed the figure who seemed the biggest threat, not because he was heroic but because he didn't want Aziraphale to be brave.

"Dibs on the big guy."

...

The fight had turned into a bit of a brawl. There were more vampires than expected. Not all of them were assassins, some were just passing prats. 

Fighting against the last dregs Guillermo was the first to shriek as Crowley's dibbed vampire attacked in bat form. Having gotten away to play dirty. Then it dived at Aziraphale causing a fatal distraction. The vampire he was struggling against used it to plunge his hand out in a decapitating fashion. Crowley used his lanky legs to propel himself forward and slam Aziraphale into the nearest vulva bush. 

Not wasting a second Crowley transformed himself into bat form and took to the sky. Beginning the bat battle.

Finishing the last ground vampire off Guillermo joined Aziraphale. "Do you know which one Crowley is?"

Straining Aziraphale sighed, "can't make much out from down here." But warmth and worry flooded through him regardless. Crowley didn't have to fight, he could have left or ratted them out. But no, there he was engaged in a ridiculous display. A tiny mammal tumble. 

As one bat bounced off another Crowley momentarily changed form as he slammed against the ground. Jumping back up to battle, then the other vampire changed form as he overturned a chuck of the garden. Finally, one bat threw the other into the electric box. The bat was electrocuted, dropped into the pond and its last breath bubbled to the surface.

Aziraphale's heart almost stopped. Which bat lost? Surely not- He rushed over and stopped as the victorious bat tumbled down and stumbled on the ruined lawn as Crowley. Unthinking Aziraphale threw his arms around Crowley and toppled them both to the ground. 

Beneath Aziraphale Crowley gave a pained laugh. "You're welcome."

Readjusting his weight Aziraphale pulled Crowley to stand. "I think we dealt with higher numbers."

"Yeah well, that guy was boss level. Unless of course, you were watching another bat battle."

Guillermo moved up beside them. "Not to spoil the moment but we need to bury them and we better do it quickly."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Aren't parties supposed to be glamorous?"

And just like that Aziraphale was elbowing him again. "We aren't at the party."

"No. We're in Hell. Otherwise known as Laszlo's Vulva Garden. Which we just helped to destroy."

Taking an offered shovel from Guillermo Crowley glanced idly around at the chaos and ruin. "Laszlo is going to pitch a fit. Time for a new plan. Deny _everything_. We," Crowley gestured towards all of them, "were never here. Once we're done here we all go back in and blend."

The last few hours hadn't run smooth. Now all Crowley wanted to do was get home. Watch Aziraphale bask in The Proms and hum gently to the music. Then he remembered the bad bat at the bottom of the pound. 

"Bat bodies don't float right?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale's got a cold and Crowley can't cope.
> 
> Happy Halloween!  
> 🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃
> 
> As always your kudos and comments are chocolatey treats for the soul 🍬

"What are you doing!?!" Crowley demanded incredulously. Finally having enough. It was the fifth time that Aziraphale had sneezed and sniffed. Wandering out of the kitchen dazed.

"I've got a bit of a cold."

Crowley squinted behind his glasses. "Are you dying?"

Aziraphale could hardly repress a sigh, "good gracious Crowley. Don't you know what a cold is?"  
  
"I remember the bubonic plague!"

The vampire hunter sighed again, squeezing the tissue in his hands as the threat of another sneeze loomed. "I'm not dying. Just a bit under the weather. Out of sorts is all. It will pass in a jiffy. You'll see."

Only it didn't. In the following days and nights, Aziraphale's symptoms worsened. It was no longer a manageable cold, rather the flown blow flu. On the first night that Aziraphale chose to stay in bed and not communicate or come out other than to use the bathroom, Crowley let it slide. Humans liked space, they needed it for peculiar private things. But by the second night, Crowley was losing his fucking mind.

"Would you please just invite me in!" Crowley's insistent knocking became a barrage of banging.

He heard a miserable groan from inside the bedroom from which he was magically barred. "I'm not going to do anything am I? All above board and proper. Just let me in yeah?"

There was no response to his heartfelt plea.

"Aziraphale stop being a bastard and-"

The door swung opened. Revealing an exhausted vampire hunter. "Would you please stop shouting? I was trying to get some sleep." The voice was off, scratchy and devoid of cheerfulness. 

"All you do is sleep," Crowley countered. "And what in the hell is up with your body heat?"

Clutching his robe around him and his day's old pyjama set Aziraphale struggled to follow. "My temperature?"

"Yes. That. It's high."

"It's perfectly natural," Aziraphale coughed horribly. One hand flying out to hold the door frame for support as another round of coughing hit him. "It's just the body fighting off the virus. I'll be fine."

"But your swaying!"

Aziraphale didn't argue. His well-prepared stack of medicines only served to dampen the suffering. Nothing could be done about the light-headed feeling.

"Let me help you back into bed- oh! NO! Not like that. Obviously not like _that_. I'm hardly going to ravish you right now. You haven't washed in days, you smell of infection and you've still got some snot around your nose."

It hadn't been the right thing to say. Horrified and suddenly self-conscious Aziraphale slammed the door in Crowley's face. Although the sheer effort had unbalanced him and he tumbled down to the floor with a pained thump.

Very gently Crowley knocked on the door again. Smug as shit. "Let me in and I'll help. Or be childish and crawl back to bed. Which will it be?"

There was a long silence.

The bed was just too far after all. "Alright Crowley. Come in."

And just like that Crowley entered. Moving faster than he should have to scoop a startled Aziraphale up and off the floor into bed. Looming above Crowley grinned wolfishly. "Was that so hard?"

"Yes." Came the responding croak. "I am regretting it already."

Sitting on the bed without invitation Crowley swept-back damp blond bangs. "When was the last time you had something to eat?"

"About seven or so."  
  
"In the morning," Crowley deadpanned. "But nothing else? I'll get you something. Anything you want. Your wish is my command."  
  
Pulling the covers around himself Aziraphale felt cold all over. In another minute or so he'd be boiling again. "I'm not hungry."

"Does it matter? You still need to eat."

"As do you," Aziraphale argued. Starting to succumb to exhaustion once more. "Take away foods aren't what I need. Like this, I could barely manage a bit of toast."

"Okay." Crowley nodded. "What should I put on it?" Racking his brain Crowley recalled the few times he'd seen Aziraphale nibble on toast. Which was really just burnt bread. "A bit of butter and jam?"

"Sounds nice," Aziraphale smiled. His eyes shut. "But you don't know how to make toast."

"Hey. I'm thee Anthony J. Crowley. There is nothing I cannot do!"

...

One trip to the shops later and now back in his kitchen, Crowley was regretting his life choices. He was on the phone to Anathema. Feeling very much like a wild, demented animal. 

"Anathema I can't cook toast! I mean it just burns on one side and stinks! Yes, I already bought the bread! Of course, the power switch is on. The toaster is not doing it for me don't lie." Crowley pressed back against the countertop as the third batch of bread began to burn.

"What the fuck do I do? There is smoke! What do you mean stop it? Press what button? BE MORE SPECIFIC! Oh yeah, I see it and shit! It just jumped out at me again. It's on the floor! Why in the fuck does toast jump?" The other tries had burned and then exploded, breaking on to the floor in a crash of crumbs and bready devastation. 

"Why would anyone invent this? It's just pure fucking stress! I don't need you to come over and haunt the place. I just need very clear instructions! No, I will not wake Aziraphale up to help. He's asleep. Out like a light! A foghorn wouldn't wake him."

"Crowley?"

Spinning around Crowley smiled. Hitting the disconnect button like he wasn't just talking through the complexity of toast. 

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, course. You look like shit."

Aziraphale's expression fell so suddenly Crowley was filled with regret. "I mean you should be in bed. I'm doing toast."

"Is that what's burning?"

Crowley could hardly believe that Aziraphale could smell anything in his miserable condition. "Maybe. But I think I've got it now. Fourth times the charm."

...

Having been ushered into the living room due to not wanting crumbs in his bed Aziraphale sat slumped on the sofa. Swaddled in a lightweight quilt which was still pleasantly warm. It wasn't cold in the flat but there was an aching chill deep inside his bones, along with a constant migraine and unpleasant fluids. Hearing swearing start up once more in the kitchen Aziraphale started to make an effort to get up when Crowley came wandering through. Presenting a plate with a burnt and torn attempt at toast. Butter just sort of sitting dolloped in the middle and there had clearly been some kind of mayhem with the jam. 

"Sorry it's so shit."

"No," Aziraphale smiled. Taking the offering. "It's wonderful. Very kind." He patted the sofa in offering. 

"Nice try angel. Your evil plan to make me sick will not work. I'm immune."

Despite his sore throat's protest, Aziraphale chuckled. "I would not wish this feeling on anyone."

"Not even your worst enemy?"

Aziraphale smiled secretively. "Oh, I couldn't possibly say."

"Fair enough," Crowley slinked down next to Aziraphale. Feeling like a hero when the hunter took the first small bite and hummed sweetly. Somehow by doing such a small thing Crowley felt as though he had climbed a mountain. That he had accomplished more than he had in centuries. Nothing else mattered as much as this moment. "Do you need any more?" 

Eyeing the half-drunk glass of water from earlier Crowley felt fussy. "I really don't mind."

"I'm fine for now thank you."

"You know this never would have happened if you weren't always out with your new best friend."

Aziraphale chewed his toast slowly. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're just always out now you know? Probably hunting vampires which is still kind of terrifying. It's not safe and you're..."

 _Ignoring me_. Crowley's inner child chimed. 

"Catching colds and flu's as a result."

"Guillermo is not my new best friend." Aziraphale offered. Having grown attached to Van Helsing's descendant in a sociable way. "But he doesn't shout at me through doors or lie about his toast making abilities." 

Nudging Crowley Aziraphale smiled. "Nobody can replace you. What we have is entirely different."

Hope and warmth and unicorn glitter burned in Crowley's chest. "So we're friends?"

"Of course." Then Aziraphale said something Crowley didn't expect. "Is that alright? Is it enough?"

 _For now,_ was the wrong thing to say because it still placed expectation and entitlement. But neither did the sappiness of _I'd accept anything you'll give_. So Crowley settled for something awkward and in-between. 

"We're great just as we are. It's more than I could have asked for, probably much more than I deserve." But a touch of selfish desire needed to be said aloud. "I'd like more though. How could I not? Ever since the night we met and even more now as I get to know you better."

Crowley watched Aziraphale polish off his toast and finish his drink. Being a vampire confessing to a mortal man Crowley feared the worst. That Aziraphale would get up and walk right out of his life. But to his surprise, Aziraphale didn't do that. Instead, Aziraphale leaned across and placed a quick kiss to Crowley's cheek before quietly continuing with his toast. As if nothing had happened.

Embarrassed and unsure Crowley made one of his infamous nonsense sounds. "Ngk"   
  
Aziraphale smiled, glancing off before asking, "what does the J stand for? Anthony J. Crowley. Sounds mysterious."

"W-What," Crowley artfully cleared his throat. "What do you think it stands for?"

"Janthony!" 

"You think that my name is Anthony Janthony Crowley?"

Bursting out into laughter Aziraphale coughed from the effort. Telling himself that it was the medicine's fault. 

"Seriously?"

"It would be most amusing if it were."

"Well it's not," Crowley pouted. "Nobody would call their kid that and I added the J myself. It's just a J. It doesn't stand for anything else."

It would now and forever be Janthony in Aziraphale's mind. 

Crowley watched as Aziraphale shuffled back off to bed. Having enjoyed the terrible toast. Crowley felt floaty, light as a feather. Either human aliments caused the higher brain functions to fail spectacularly or he was actually in with a chance. It could all go horribly wrong of course, as with most things in Crowley's long life thus far. But maybe just maybe something extra special was starting to take shape.

And wasn't that just the definition of a wahoo?


End file.
